


Misery Tolerates Company

by RedLetterMistress



Category: Jay Bauman - Fandom, Red Letter Media, Space Cop
Genre: Aliens, Angst, F/M, Goth - Freeform, Making Out, Meet-Cute, Strangers, bartending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:00:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23245915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLetterMistress/pseuds/RedLetterMistress
Summary: You're a goth girl with a dark sense of humor and a flare for the macabre.You're serving beer at your dumpy dive when a stranger sits belly-up at the bar.He might hate the place even more than you do. How delightful.
Relationships: Grigg (Space Cop)/Reader, Jay Bauman Character/Reader, Jay Bauman/Reader, Jay/Reader
Comments: 22
Kudos: 18
Collections: Red Letter Media Fanfic Quarantine Collection





	1. Disintegration

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a reader request send to me via [tumblr](https://rlmfanfic.tumblr.com//).
> 
> The title of this chapter is from an album by The Cure. They released _Disintegration_ in 1989 at the height of their lead singer's depression and raging nihilism. I think our gothic reader character would enoy that.

You check your roots in the bathroom mirror - not a speck of your natural hair color is showing through. You've airways prided yourself on your dedication to keeping your hair the deepest possible shade of bluish-black. You're not some bullshit poser goth who smiles for pictures and tans on the weekends. The only items of color in your wardrobe are your underwear, and even those are just various shades of purple. Color is for conformists.

"Get out here Sunshine and serve some fuckin’ drinks," comes the voice of your manager under the bathroom door. Her accent is almost Southern, but somehow far worse and more grating. You can barely hear her stupid voice over The Cure's _Pictures of You_ blasting through your headphones. You flip the bird in her direction and get back to adding long wings to your black eyeliner. This server job sucks but at least it's better than working with your roommate at fucking Dairy Queen. Everyone is so happy and smiling there, slurping down their stupid ice cream and smiling. At least people here at the dive bar are miserable. No bachelorette parties to worry about, no frat dudes trying to get your number. Just a few dozen sad bastards slowly drinking themselves to death. You feel right at home.

After touching up your black lipstick, you head out of the rest room and clock in at the front register. You tie your black apron over your waist and Siouxsie and the Banshees T-shirt and make yourself a glass of ginger ale behind the bar. A woman 20 years past her prime with a huge crown of processed blonde hair gives you an approximation of a smile. It's your manager, Cheryl-Anne. 

Not Cheryl, not Anne. _Cheryl-Anne._

"You start at 6pm. Not 6:15. Did ya not check your schedule again, hun?" She manages to smile widely the entire time she speaks. Her fake breasts are looking especially weighty this evening in her low-cut leopard print top. 

Fucking Cheryl-Anne. You wonder how she convinced four different men to marry her over the course of her lifetime. The most recent husband lets her manage his bar. You're convinced that there's no other way this awful woman could have found gainful employment.

"You're gonna have to tend bar tonight, darlin'. I’m headin’ out,” Cheryl-Anne informs you with a saccharin smile.

“But I don’t know how to make drinks,” you answer quickly. 

“Do ya think there’s gonna be a run on mint juleps tonight?” she asks. You turn to look at the three regulars sitting by themselves in their usual spots throughout the bar. Dave-With-The-ZZTop-Beard is already on his fourth pint of Budwieser tonight, Country Tom is by the dartboard writing in his song book with his whiskey on the rocks, and Steve the Pervert is busy at the video blackjack table with two open bottles of Miller Genuine Draft. 

“Good point.”

You make your way over to the dishwasher to put in a load of glasses as Cheryl-Anne shimmies her way to the front door. “Toot-a-loo y'all,” she calls out to the small crowd before running directly into a new customer. 

“Whoopsie daisy!” Cheryl-Anne remarks as she tries to regain her composure. The customer sneers at her. She finally looks at his face and her demeanor changes from little girl to lustful cougar in an instant. “Well I’ll be. Aren’t you just a cool drink of water?"

“I do not require water, chesty female! I am in need of alcohol,” comes the voice of the stranger. He moves quickly around Cheryl-Anne without a second look and walks directly to sit at the bar. You notice his black leather jacket is nicely worn-in and hugs his tight frame quite handsomely. He props both of his elbows on the counter top after planting himself down on the nearest bar stool.

“That elderly woman must be burdened with many suckling children,” the stranger says as he motions his thumb towards the bar entrance. 

“Nah," you reply with snark. "I think she had too many back-alley abortions in the 70’s to ever crank out a child."

The stranger's eyebrow perks up in understanding.

"Sorry to tell you, but those boobs are fakes.” The stranger looks to you with absolute disgust and shakes his head.

“Another human deception! Typical.”

“Exactly. Mutilation for the sake of fitting a crumbling society’s ideas of beauty. It’s complete bullshit,” you add.

The stranger’s eyes shoot up to your face, confused and perhaps a little intrigued. You notice his golden beard is _perfectly_ trimmed as he runs a hand over his sharp jawline in consideration. 

“This awful world will burn into oblivion soon,” he offers. 

“Not soon enough for me,” you reply. 

The handsome stranger chuckles loudly, but it doesn’t seem to come naturally to him. He cuts his laughter short and switches to a small smile. The ends of his golden mustache curl up just slightly at the ends and your chest flutters. 

“Hey there Witchy Woman!” a craggly voice interjects. “Can I get another Mil…”

“Shut the fuck up, Steve!” you yell over your shoulder. “I’ll get you another MGD, but if you even try touch me again, I will fucking murder you and eat your soul.” You make an apologetic face to the stranger and move to the fridge to grab a new bottle. 

“Mmmm MMMMMMmmm! Looks like our little Morticia Addams barmaid likes it rough!” Steve the Pervert calls out before making his typical kissy-face noises. You turn back to grab the bottle opener before a loud crash startles everyone in the room.

Your stranger somehow moved to the opposite end of the bar in the blink of an eye and has Steve the Pervert’s wrinkled old face pinned to the counter. The force of the blow knocked over a half-full pint glass and Steve is currently sputtering into the puddle of stale beer as it pools around his face.

“Apologize to her for being revolting!” the blonde stranger growls. He stares down his sharp nose at Steve before pulling hard on the arm he’s got pinned behind the drunk’s back. 

“Damn! Shit! I’m sorry! Sorry!” Steve gasps. The stranger looks up to you expectantly. He’s not out of breath or strained or even angry - not a single hair is out of place. He’s actually... _beautiful_. You smile at him and give your permission to let Steve go. He smirks back at you for a moment before you both shake off your happy faces. 

“You make me want to vomit plorga bile!” the stranger hisses under his breath before unhanding poor Steve the Pervert. He walks back to his bar stool and you peek over the counter to admire how his dark jeans hug his thighs. 

“You okay, Steve?” 

“Ouuchie,” Steve replies as he rubs his forehead. “Guess so.” You toss him a clean rag and he starts to clean up some of the warm beer from his 5-o’clock shadow. You crack open his new bottle and set it on the bar. 

“Sorry about your face,” you tell him. “This one’s on me if you promise to stop being such a goddamn pervert.” The stranger watches you with interest from the other side of the bar.

“I’ll take it under consideration, madam,” Steve replies as he takes a sip and heads back to the video blackjack. 

“Let me know if you need ice for your face, you dirty old bastard,” you call after him. Steve waves you off as he sits in his chair. You make your way back to the stranger and spread your arms out across the bar.

"Thanks - but you didn't have to do that," you explain to your new customer. "I can handle these guys."

“He sickens me,” the stranger says as he watches Steve resume his game. “Alcohol makes humans stupid,” he grumbles. 

“Yeah, it does,” you reply with a sigh. “But it also helps you **put up** with stupid humans. It’s a catch-22, I guess.”

The stranger’s face wrinkles in confusion. “I do not understand.”

“Maybe that's because you haven’t had anything to drink yet?” you offer. He purses his lips as he considers this. 

"The only enjoyable things on this planet are black coffee and beer," he says. “Even though your beer tastes like what you humans call _piss_.” Grigg shakes his head and you take a moment to admire his sharp features.

“Well I agree with the first part of that," you reply. "I do love black coffee. But “piss beer”? I hadn’t heard of that.”

You take a moment to think further. “Oh! Wait… do you mean you’ve only had terrible domestic beer like Bud Light and Coors?” 

“There are more beers?” the stranger asks with suspicion. You can’t keep back a smirk.

“How about this: I’m going to pour you a beer. If you don’t like it, the drink’s on me. If you do like it, you have to tell me your name. Deal?”

“I agree to your terms,” he declares simply. 

You pivot and grab a glass from under the bar. The stranger watches you closely as you pull the wooden beer tap handle and a dark brown liquid pours smoothly into the glass. You fill it to the brim before turning off the tap and setting the dark beer in front of your handsome stranger. 

“Is this poison?” he asks with some apprehension. 

“ _Everything_ is poison,” you reply with a small shrug.

The stranger nods in agreement and grabs his pint glass. His mustache dips into the foamy head of the beer as he takes a swig. 

And then another. 

And then another. 

When he finally stops to take a breath, he sets the nearly empty glass down and wipes his leather sleeve across his mustache. The stranger finally peers up to you; his deep green eyes look almost vulnerable in the faint neon lights of the bar. 

“I am Grigg,” he announces. He finishes the rest of the pint in one gulp and then points to his empty glass. “And I require more of this.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guess it would be Grigg? Oh you probably did, didn't you?!? Hopefully, it was still a fun read!
> 
> I'll be adding more to this as the quarantine goes on!
> 
> What did you think? Drop me a comment or stop by my [tumblr](https://rlmfanfic.tumblr.com/).


	2. The Same Dark Water As You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanging out with Grigg in your dive bar, you begin to bond over your shared hatred of humanity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you not in the know, this is Jay as Grigg:  
>   
>   
>   
> 

Grigg spends the next hour and a half sitting belly-up at the bar, downing each beer you set in front of him. You share laughs over your mutual hatred of everything. You bring up pop music and Grigg nearly vomits. It's adorable.

“Was it a rough day, Grigg?” you ask as you take a sip of your ginger-ale. He shakes his head angrily before taking another full drink of his beer.

“I can’t stand the day time. Sunlight is awful- all the UV rays make me sick,” he explains.

“Oh god! Absolutely! I hate the sun, too.” You clink your glass to his. “Fuck the sun!”

Grigg stares at his glass and then up at you, completely perplexed. 

“You... _hate_... the sun?” he asks.

“Of course. I’m a child of the night. Can't you tell?” you smile as you do a little twirl and show him your head-to-tie black attire. Grigg watches intently before diverting his eyes to the ceiling. You shrug and continue on: “I’m just more comfortable in darkness. It feels like home to me.” 

Grigg’s eyes go wide before a smile breaks across his face. His front teeth peek out over his bottom lip and your brain stops working for a moment. He casts his eyes back to his pint glass and clears his throat.

“Wh… What is this liquid?” 

“It’s beer... Just good beer. It's a coffee porter,” you answer. “It’s basically the only thing I drink here - besides some of the hard liquor. But I don’t drink while I’m working.” Grigg holds his third glass up to admire the dark beverage. 

"It is important to keep your mind sharp in this terrible place, I’m sure,” Grigg replies as he eyes the other bar patrons. 

“It’s not that bad,” you answer. “These guys are pretty harmless.” You set a new pint in front of Grigg and clear two empties. You pop them down on the bar rinser and set them in the tray to go in the washer. “The only god-awful part is walking to my car after I close. I wrap my keys through my fingers and I have pepper spray, but the street light isn’t working now. It’s fucking scary.”

“Unacceptable,” Grigg says simply. 

“I know. It sucks, but so does everything. People are fucking awful.”

Grigg shakes his head in disgust. “It is unacceptable. I do not accept you being forced to defend yourself with keys and pepper." He nods his head once after his decision is made: "I will provide safe passage to your car.”

You roll your eyes. This guy might be handsome, (beautiful, really) but he’s already three beers in and probably isn’t thinking clearly. “Well that’s really chivalrous of you Grigg, but I don’t get off for another six hours or so.”

“I have no assignment tonight. I will stand guard," Grigg explains.

“You want to wait six hours to walk me to my car?” you ask with suspicion. “That’s… well, it’s kind of creepy, honestly.” You walk away to pour another whiskey for Country Tom and see Grigg out of the corner of your eye staring down at the counter.

“Apologies, Child of the Night. I do not wish to be creepy. I will go.” Grigg reaches into his pocket and drops more than enough money to cover all of his drinks on the bar. You feel a pang of regret in your gut.

_So he’s kinda strange - Lots of people say the same about you. He’s also really fucking cute and you want to nibble him. God, you hope you don’t regret this._

"If you were going to stay here, what would you even do for the next six hours?" you inquire.

"Could I not spend them with you?" 

"Of course you can, Grigg. I just meant what do you want to do to pass the time?" you smirk.

"I could kill that dirty old man for your entertainment if you would like," he offers as he points to Steve the Pervert.

"That's certainly an option," you giggle. "But I don't think that will be necessary." Grigg takes off his leather jacket and throws it over the seat next to him. 

His black t-shirt barely contains his biceps, hugging every rippled movement of his arm so perfectly you nearly drool. He pulls the bottom of the shirt down to cover the silver and black leather belt that's slung low on his hips. Grigg’s shoulders stretch the black fabric taut as he grabs his glass and takes another sip. He sits back down to face you and you simply cannot form words. 

_You’re definitely not regretting this so far._

You lean against the bar dumbfounded and try to think of something that’s not jumping the counter and mounting this tight little man in the bathroom right fucking now. 

"Uhmmm.... Do you... like poetry?" you manage

"What is 'poetry'?" Grigg asks. 

"Oh. Um, wow. That is a good question. I suppose poetry is in the eyes of the beholder. For some idiots, Taylor Swift or a Hallmark card is poetry,” you reflect. “Well, my favorite poetry is by Edgar Allan Poe. I have a collection of his poems and short stories here that I read when it's slow."

An adorable wrinkle forms in the middle of his forehead as Grigg tries to follow along.

"He's all about the obsessive, twisted madness of love, the razor's edge we all walk between misery and insanity, and the torture of human existence," you explain rapturously.

Grigg stares at you with wide eyes and gulps.

"I would very much enjoy reading your Poe," Grigg replies quietly. 

"No prob," you smile. "I'll go get it." You walk to the other end of the bar to grab your large tome as Dave-With-The-ZZTop-Beard calls your name.

"Hey! You gonna turn that show on, girly?"

"What show? We don't have cable, Dave," you answer. "It's just my DVDs from home."

"Well stop talking to that little boy in a beard and put _something_ on!" Dave yells. "I'm bored, goddamn it!"

You grab your copy of _The Complete Edgar Allan Poe_ and a small stack of your DVDs near the register. You set them all on the counter in front of Grigg and lean in closer. His face is just inches from yours. He smells like coffee, leather, and... and something else- something perfect. You try to shake the thought and get back to business.

"What do you say, Grigg? You get to choose which one of my favorite shows gets played on the big screen tonight." You motion over your shoulder to the flat screen TV against the far wall. You move the large book of poetry off to the side.

"I'd love for you to read this later, but for now: Do you want to watch _Humanity's Greatest Failures_ , _Autopsies Gone Wrong, Countdown to Nuclear Armageddon_ , or _Most Extreme Elimination Challenge_? That last one is really funny because you get to see stupid people hurt themselves endlessly for no reason.” Grigg's hand reaches for yours. 

"I want that one! The stupid humans hurting themselves one!" he says excitedly. You cover his hand with your own and feel the warmth of his skin. It's impossibly smooth; almost like marble. 

"Whatever you want, Grigg," you reply as you run your thumb across his knuckles. Grigg pulls his hand away slowly with a pained expression and you wonder if you overstepped. He stares down at his dark beer and rotates the glass with his fingers. Grigg's brow furrows in thought. 

"You… you are **_strange_ ** and **_confusing_ ** _…_ " he starts. He keeps his eyes focused on his drink. "I hate humans… but… I… am enjoying your company," he finally manages.

"I hate everyone, too, Grigg. But you haven't pissed me off once in the two hours I've known you, so I might hate you the least," you smile.

Grigg looks up to you with a small smirk. "Agreed."

You pop your _Most Extreme Elimination Challenge_ DVD into the player behind the bar. The episode begins with a montage of the worst collisions of last season. When a man dressed as a flamingo runs full speed into a brick wall, Grigg laughs so hard he snorts. 

“Why do they do this!? Are their families being held captive!?” he asks with a wide open smile. A woman in a fish costume falls ten feet face-first into muddy water and he giggles like a little boy.

“No,” you laugh. “They just do it to get on TV. People are so stupid!” You chuckle as tears start to form in the corners of Grigg’s eyes. 

“They are!” he roars. He stops himself for a moment and looks at you. His laughter fades, but he's still smiling. “Except for you, Dark Enchantress. You **must** be from Proxima Centauri.” You feel the heat rise in your face as your cheeks turn pink.

“Maybe I am from another planet. I definitely don’t fit in here,” you shrug. “But I’ve only heard of _Alpha_ Centauri.”

“No, no. You cannot be from there,” Grigg assures you. “Those guys are assholes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is from another song on The Cure's Disintegration album. It's about holding on to the person you love as you're enveloped in the inescapable darkness together. Basically, a goth love song. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! Romance is on the way. I'm still not sure of how alien it will get, but it's coming.


	3. Just Like Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poetry, Knife-throwing, and astrophysics. Love is truly in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, we have another Cure song as the title of this chapter. It's one of my personal favorites. 
> 
> _Spinning on that dizzy edge  
>  Kissed her face and kissed her head  
> Dreamed of all the different ways I had to make her glow_

The next five hours fly by. A few more regulars file into the bar at their usual times, but Grigg stays firmly seated at the bar. You’ve limited his beer service to only one pint an hour, but he hasn’t complained. He simply sips his coffee porter and listens. It's kind of wonderful. 

When _Most Extreme Elimination Challenge_ finished, he wants to play the entire DVD over again. You convince him to let the regulars play their songs the juke box instead. ("They tip better when they're happy, Grigg.") He reads the collection of Poe stories when you need to serve drinks or wash down tables. 

Two of your favorite customers came in around 10pm and sit at the other side of the bar. Mickey and Spider are a pair of good-natured old bikers, but the sheer number of prison tattoos on their arms shows that they’re capable of violence. Both men are on the portly side with long gray beards and leather vests. It took you two months before you could tell them apart. 

“Hey Spider!” you greet the larger man kindly as you drop off a cold pint of his favorite beer. You start making Mickey’s usual whiskey and cola before pointing to the handsome blonde man at the end of the bar. “This is my friend Grigg.” You hear Grigg choke softly on his coffee porter. “Do you think you could show him your knife trick?”

“On that little fella?” Spider unfolds his hunting knife and spins it on the bar. “That ain’t really much of a challenge with them itty bitty fingers of his,” Mickey responds with a smile. Grigg looks down self-consciously at his hands on your book.

“Well then do on Mickey,” you reason.

“Ha! Okey doke!” Spider slams his hand down on Mickey’s and spreads the other man’s fingers wide. “I won't getcha if you just stay still, Mick.”

“If you even nick me, I aint talkin’ to you ever again, you sumbitch,” Mickey warns. 

Grigg watches the men intently as Spider spins the knife in his hand and then stabs quickly down at the space between Mickey’s middle and index fingers. He jabs the knife back and forth between the spaces of Mickey’s fingers on the bar. You can hear the rhythm of the knife ramp up as Spider pierces the wood counter top. 

You turn to watch Grigg’s eyes widen as the neon lights flicker off of the metal blade; he’s completely enthralled. You lean back over the edge of the bar to be closer to him. 

“It’s just like that scene from _Aliens_. So cool,” you whisper over to Grigg. His head whips up to your face.

“Y… you… like **aliens**?” he asks breathlessly. 

“I fucking love _Aliens_ , Grigg! Endless, maddening darkness, ancient horrors punishing humans for their hubris, space marines being slaughtered left and right; what’s not to like?” you laugh. “But it gets better. Watch.”

Spider’s hand starts to move so fast it’s getting hard to see. Just when it seems he can’t stab any faster, Spider flips his his knife in the air, catches it by the blade, and throws it into the cork dartboard on the opposite wall. Country Tom doesn’t even look up from his songbook when the knife flies past his head. 

You cheer loudly before walking over and pulling the hunting knife out of the dartboard. It’s not a bullseye this time, but it’s still damn impressive. You hand it back to Spider with a small bow. Grigg is still applauding, but he’s not doing it quite right. It looks more like he’s playing pat-a-cake with himself. 

“Such strength and skill with a knife,” he tells you as you make your way back behind the bar. “That one must have his choice of any female!”

“ _That_ one? No, not really.” Grigg’s eyes narrow as he tries to understand. “Those two are together,” you smile. On the other end of the bar, Spider tucks his knife back into the leather case on his belt before planting a light kiss on Mickey's bearded cheek.

“They come here to drink in peace cause no one here gives a shit,” you explain. Grigg still seems puzzled. “I guess they met in prison like 20 years ago and have been together ever since - love is strange like that,” you sigh. “They’re the only married couple I don’t actively root against.” 

Grigg’s head tilts slightly in thought before he looks back to your Edgar Allan Poe book and grunts his agreement. 

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

At 1am, the bar is finally empty, but still an hour away until closing time. Grigg is still in his spot, eyes focused intently on the open pages in front of him. You admire his jawline as he reads and clenches his teeth. His green eyes finally look up into yours.

“What does ‘bizarrerie’ mean?” he asks with a furrowed brow. 

“It means like a weird or strange thing that’s kind of funny,” you answer absentmindedly as you set a rack of glasses in the washer. “We’ve got another hour to kill before I lock up. Do you like the poetry or do you want me to put on some _Forensic Files_ \- that show is great because it combines science and murder.” 

“I like the poetry,” Grigg answers. His face is still contorted in thought. 

“It doesn’t _look_ like you like it,” you answer as you pour yourself a fresh ginger ale. 

“I am still learning your language, so it is difficult,” Grigg replies with a tinge of shame. 

“Oh! I didn’t realize English wasn’t your first language! But that actually makes a lot of sense with your quirky manneris…” 

Grigg looks at you with determined eyes and clears his throat.

“ _It was a freak of fancy… to be_ **_enamored_ ** _of the Night for her own sake; and into this bizarrerie I quietly fell; giving myself up to wild whims with a perfect abandon,_ ” he recites without looking at the page. 

You stand completely gobsmacked as he continues to gaze up at you. Warmth radiates from your chest across your body. Grigg swallows hard as his arms flex tight. 

“This is you..." he points to the page. "The beautiful Night I am enamored with. And I have fallen into this... strange, funny place,” he says as he eyes his surroundings. He finally looks back to you and wets his lips. “And... I feel like... giving myself up... to wild whims,” he whispers. His face is both agonized and hopeful. 

Steam pours out of the machine as the washer cycle ends and you’re still staring at him like an idiot. You're sure you're about to do something stupid, but as you gaze into those beautiful green eyes, you just can't bring yourself to care. 

With a jolt, you find the ability to use your legs and walk out from behind the bar. Grigg swivels on his seat to watch as you walk past him to the entrance.

"There is still an hour until our journey to your car," Grigg says befuddled.

You lean against the door with one hand splayed wide before securing every lock on the door frame. You pull the tattered cord of the neon OPEN sign and it fades to black. You saunter back to him with purpose. 

_"'Perfect abandon'_ waits for no one, Grigg" you explain before wrapping your arms around his neck and planting a kiss to his red lips. He watches you with surprise; both eyes open wide. You run your fingers through the hair at the back of his neck and he shudders at the touch. Grigg's eyes slowly shut as his warm lips melt against yours, but his arms stay still. He pulls his face away from you and sighs.

"Every part of this disgusting body is hot and... **stiff** now," he explains with a pained look. 

You nuzzle into his neck and nibble the flesh along his earlobe. "Do you not like it?" you whisper. 

"It is... becoming overwhelming. But it is the most enjoyment I have experienced in several cycles," Grigg pants as his arms finally wrap around your waist. You hop up into his lap and hook your ankles behind his chair. You grind down on his hips to gauge his hot stiffness for yourself. 

_Not fucking bad._

You purr your appraisal into his ear and Grigg groans in response. His hands reach down to halt the movement of your hips against his length. He looks up to your face and confesses: "I could injure you. I am not… overly familiar... with your anatomy and physiology."

"My anatomy...? Oh! Do you mean you don't have much sexual experience?" you offer as your hips continue to knead into his lap. 

"Sure. That," he moans.

"I don't mind. I'm sure you'll pick it up as we go along," you assure him as you plant kisses down his neck and across his chiseled jawline. "And as far as hurting me..." you suck his plump bottom lip into your mouth and bite down firmly. His grip around your waist tightens, pulling you down firmly against his cock. "...I don't think either of us would shy away from pain." You lean back enough to see a wicked grin flash across his face. 

“I will do my best to not destroy your fragile human body,” he growls before biting into your neck. 

“Well that doesn’t sound like much fun,” you moan. “Maybe I want to be destroyed, Grigg.” Your fingernails scratch down his scalp and his teeth clench down harder around your pulse point. You feel the strain of his hardening cock against his jeans. You pull his head away to make sure he hears you.

“But I’m not fucking you in this bar, Grigg. Everything is sticky and it smells like stale beer and old bikers.” His shoulders sink as he tries to come up with a solution. You place a kiss directly on his wrinkled brow and slide off of his lap. 

“Come here,” you say softly as you slide your hand into Grigg’s. You’re distracted by the otherworldly smoothness of his skin for a moment. Grigg looks nervously up to you as he stands from his bar stool. 

“Follow me,” you say gently. Your grip tightens around his hand as you walk past the jukebox, the blackjack machine, and the pool table to the bar’s back office and storage room. You pass a stack of tapped kegs on your right tucked under a set of metal stairs. Grigg lets go of your hand as you climb the narrow steps toward the roof hatch. 

“Are you looking at my ass, Grigg?” you tease.

“Yes,” he replies simply.

“Most men would at least _try_ to lie about that,” you giggle as you unlock and open the hatch. 

“Most men are filthy, selfish, sacks of meat,” he answers back gruffly. 

“Very true,” you laugh. You make your way out onto the roof and extend your hand to help Grigg. He takes hold of it and steps up the last rung of the stairs. Grigg’s eyes go wide as he looks around the dark rooftop. You walk him towards a set of rattan patio furniture in the corner.

"My manager and her husband have private parties up here," you explain. Millions of stars twinkle brightly overhead as you make your way to the edge of the roof.

“With all of the streetlights burnt out, you can finally see the stars clearly," you explain. "The night is so beautiful when you remove human interference, don't you think?”

Grigg holds on to your hand as he stares wistfully up at the sky. He shakes his head in disbelief. He clears his throat softly. 

“When two black holes collide, they almost always feed on each other’s gravity and become one terrifying, inescapable void,” he explains with gravel in his voice. “But sometimes they crash into one another under strange circumstances and form what you call a quasar - one of the brightest objects in the universe. I never understood how so much power and blinding beauty could come from absolute darkness,” he says before squeezing your hand. “Until I met you.”

...

“Holy…. fucking…. shit….” you gasp and reach up to your temples with both hands. “The Poe thing was amazing, but fucking hell, Grigg! Fucking Astrophysics? I can only get **so** turned on! You realize that, right?”

“I… am… sorry? I did not mean to...” he apologizes with an awkward huff and fidgets nervously. You hold his shoulders to hold him still and look into his dark eyes. 

“There’s only one way to make it up to me,” you tease as you cup his jawline with both hands. Grigg waits nervously for you to continue.

“If you’re giving out lessons in Astronomy, you have to let me teach you Anatomy.”

Grigg smiles wide.

“I agree to your terms, Child of the Night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well we're ramping up the heat, but I'm just such a sucker for romance. Even if it's with an angry alien version of Jay. 
> 
> Let me know what you think here or on my [tumblr](https://rlmfanfic.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> I hope you're enjoying this strange little story!


	4. Friday I'm in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Certain facts come to light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artwork by @thecurlycaptain on tumblr.  
>   
> 

You step closer to Grigg and he wraps his strong arms around your waist. You run your palms over the front of his shirt from his abdomen up to his chest and breathe in his scent. It's like curling under an impossibly soft blanket with your favorite book during a storm.

"God, what is that, Grigg? Why do you smell so fucking incredible?"

"I am unsure," he answers as he unties your black apron. You reach down to his belt line to run your fingers just under the waist of his boxers and he growls. He kisses your collarbone and inhales deeply. “The only difference I can detect is trioxygen - your filters must not be working properly.” He resumes his kisses and the feel of his lips on your skin is intoxicating. 

“My wha...” you start before he bites down on your neck.

“Trioxygen - Ozone,” he breathes against your skin. “It is very common here. Your lightning makes it all the time,” Grigg remarks as his hands find their way up under the back of your shirt. 

“Wait? What?” you question as you come back to some of your senses. “You… your body **_makes_ ** ozone? You literally just produce the smell of thunderstorms?” You pull away and look into his shifting eyes. 

“I… have… a skin condition?” he tries. 

Your eyes go up to his hairline and you take a step back.

“Really?” you ask as your arms drop from his shoulders. “And what condition is that?” Grigg looks nervous.

“It is… a… rare... disorder of the… human… uh… the human…” he stammers. His eyes dart around the rooftop nervously.

“Did you honestly mean what you said about being enamored with me?” you ask quietly. Grigg stops his stuttering before his shoulders sink. 

“Yes,” he answers. “Very much.” 

Your vision narrows as you stare intently at his temples. 

“Where do you live?” you press as you take another step away.

“In a… house... apartment studio…” he tries before biting his lip.

“Interesting,” you whisper to yourself. “And you meant what you said about the stars and black holes?” Grigg’s head hangs down and he sighs miserably.

“Yes, beautiful Dark One. You are, without rival, the most amazing creature I have ever met.”

You set your hands down on your hips and exhale loudly. 

“Grigg, I really like you. You’re weird and violent and handsome - all amazing. But I can’t be with someone who lies to me. I don’t care that you’re not human, but I do care that you’re lying about it.”

Grigg’s face snaps up to yours in an instant; his eyes full of panic and terror. 

“What do you mean?!? I am a human!” he blurts out anxiously. 

“Do you know that you **_glow_** when you lie?”

“I…. I… I…” he struggles. 

“Your sweat glows on your skin when you lie to me,” you inform him as you point to his temples.

Grigg’s hands shoot up to his hairline and he gathers sweat on his fingers. He stares angrily down at his hands and growls.

“I am human!” he yells. Every damp surface on his hands pulses with a beautiful blue-green light. The cool light fades slowly as he balls his hands into fists.

"Fuck," Grigg groans sadly.

He covers his eyes and falls back onto the rattan loveseat.

“It is luciferin combining with oxygen to produce bioluminescence,” he explains as the light continues to weaken. “It is only supposed to happen between mated pairs. It discourages dishonesty and increases the chances of survival... in my species.”

Griggs' head hands down in shame. 

“So you’re a vicious, sexy, beer-drinking, poetry-reciting, glow-in-the-dark alien who smells like lightning storms? Is that about it?”

“Yes,” he answers with a defeated sigh. The blue light is gone and he’s engulfed in darkness. 

"I meant what I said, Grigg. I don't care what you are," you offer as you walk towards him. 

"How is that possible?" he asks. You grab his face and tilt his chin up to look at you.

His sad eyes reflect every star with perfect clarity. Not just the tiny white lights; but the subtle blues, golds, and purples of the Milky Way galaxy in the sky above you.

"Poe wrote a poem about the stars once," you start with a deep breath. "About how he thought the stars were all so beautiful - but also cold and impersonal. All except for one; his Evening Star."

You smile softly before continuing on.

"Poe said the light from _his_ star was different; it was firey, radiant, and warm and very dear to him. He was a miserable man for most of his life, but even Poe felt joy just being under the light of his star."

You run your index finger over the curve of Grigg's ear and smirk as he stops breathing.

"If I am your Night, then maybe you are my Evening Star," you offer. Your fingers comb through his short, golden beard and you bow down to press your lips to his. He peers desperately into your eyes. 

"Are you not afraid? Confused? Angry? _Something_?! I am an alien!" he pleads. You still for a moment and purse your lips in consideration.

"There's way more worse things to be than an alien, Grigg. Like... do you own a fixed-gear bicycle?" you ask calmly.

"What?! No! Of course not," he answers. "They are pointless."

"Have you ever paid to hear the Black Eyed Peas?"

"My god! No!" Grigg shakes his head in utter disgust.

"Ever fist-bump someone and called them 'brah'?"

Grigg looks like he might be physically ill. 

"How do you feel about bats?"

"They... are... adorable sky puppies and I admire their echo-location ability."

You smile down at him and raise an eyebrow.

"Are you going to implant eggs in my chest that will devour me from the inside out?"

"I am a male," he replies almost offended. "I have never had eggs to plant in your chest, and this body is almost entirely human."

"Then I think we're fine," you assure him before kissing his forehead. His hands reach around your thighs to hold you close.

"People tend to ignore the _strange_ and _unusual_ , Grigg," you start in your best Lydia Deets voice. "But I myself **am** strange and unusual." You run your black finger nails through his perfectly-styled hair and feel him lean into your touch. 

Your hands guide Grigg to lay back into the seat. You set your left knee next to his thigh and straddle his lap, relishing the sound of his groan when your center meets his. Grigg's mustache tickles your nose and you chuckle before breathing him in again. 

"Maybe it's shock, maybe it's just how everything about you just turns me on so much I wouldn't care if you were a shaved sasquatch," you laugh. "But I really like you, and that's too rare an occurrence for me to ignore."

Grigg's hands find your hips and he gazes up at you with adoration.

"You are perfection. I would lay waste to this entire planet if you so desired."

You lean back to watch his temples glow, but no light appears. He's actually being serious.

"You'd destroy the planet for me?!?! That is SO sweet, Grigg!" You coo into his beard before peppering his face with kisses. “But don’t though. Okay?”

“Okay,” he promises. 

"Can you do me a favor?" you inquire as you pull your shirt up to your breasts.

"Anything," Grigg answers sincerely.

"Could you lie to me again?"

Grigg's head tilts abruptly. You kiss sharp, scrunched-up nose before drawing your shirt over your head. Grigg marvels at the sight of your body in his arms.

"This bra has a weird hook on the front and I don't think I can get it off without some light. Could you please lie to me?"

"Uhhh… you are **_not_ ** the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," he tries. 

A pale blue-green glow springs to life at his temples. Your weight shifts against his cock as you run your fingers over his skin.

"I… am... **_not_ ** aroused right now," he groans.

The light intensifies sharply.

"I have **_no_** desire to please you endlessly in every way you could ever dream of." 

The light shifts to a radiant, pure blue and spreads across the warmest parts his body. It shines through his black t-shirt near his armpits and chest. 

"Woooah," you murmur awestruck. "You're so beauti…" your voice cuts out as a wonderful thought enters your mind. You sit up far enough to yank Grigg's shirt up from his belt and pull the waistband of his boxers away.

A serene blue light emanates from below his belt, illuminating both of your faces.

"Oh, Grigg. This is going to be so much fun."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Two Weeks Later**

“God, this place smells like old man farts,” you announce as Grigg opens the front door of the Milwaukee Police Department. His face contorts as the smell hits his nose.

“Yes, my Dark One,” he agrees after a sniff. “And desperation.”

You thread your arm through the crook of his elbow and squeeze his bicep tight. “Wait! Can you actually _smell_ desperation?”

“Yes,” Grigg answers matter-of-factly.

“That’s so fucking cool,” you swoon. "You're amazing." Grigg smiles before pressing you into the nearest wall and covering your mouth with his own. You whine sweetly as he deepens the kiss; enjoying the burn of his mustache against your lips. Your black sunglasses clank into each other as he lifts you against the wall, completely unconcerned with the dozens of police officers filtering through the doorway.

You can smell his leather jacket mixing with the scent of a summer thunderstorm. Grigg's arm flexes under your grip before you hook a leg around his waist. You feel him hardening against your center and your mind goes blank.

"Is there some kind of Halloween-themed sex party happening today, kids?"

Grigg growls in frustration, but it only serves to turn you on more. He turns his head to address a tall detective in a trench coat.

"Cooper," he says with disdane.

Another large man, this one wearing a strange helmet and shirt covered in mustard stains, stands next to Cooper. He's staring at your fishnet-covered thigh hiked up around Grigg's waist.

"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaah. Thaaaat's the stuff," he grunts. 

It's sickening.

Grigg steps away and moves to shield you from the disgusting man and his pervy gaze.

"Keep looking at her like that and she'll tear your fucking eyes out with a smile on her face, Space Cop." 

"It's true, I will," you chime in happily.

"You're incredible," Grigg whispers. _He's getting much better with word contractions._ You wrap your arms around his waist from behind and rest your cheek on his shoulder blade. He turns his face back to the strange pair and pulls a large envelope out of his leather jacket.

“Fat Cop, Sad Cop: Here’s all the information you need to foil Dr. Schumann’s plot. Evidence, maps, encryption keys - everything. Even humans as stupid as yourselves should be able to stop him now."

The tall detective accepts the envelope with some trepidation and glances over to his partner. Cooper raises a dark eyebrow toward Grigg.

"I’m only saving your stupid planet because my girlfriend asked me to."

Grigg grabs your hand and places a kiss to your knuckles. He inclines his head towards the awkward duo, but doesn't bother looking at them again. "If you idiots have any questions, go fuck yourselves."

He steps away to hold the door open for you and you make your way outside.

"Do you want to do the thing I taught you?" you propose as you open your black lace parasol. Grigg grabs the handle and holds the delicate shade up to shield you from the mid-day sun.

"Oh! Right! Yes," Grigg replies with a smile. He raises his opposite hand and flips off both cops over his shoulder. "Byyyeeeeee!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the story! Happy ending for Grigg!! And look at the fic art from the Curly Captain! Grigg's sweat is glowing! So cute.
> 
> It was a really fun challenge. It actually came out much more romantic than I thought it would. I thought about getting into heavier smut, but I don't think the story lent itself to that. It's just too damn sweet for sloppy alien sex. Maybe next time, though.
> 
> Lydia Deetz is Winona Ryder's character in BeetleJuice. Basically a goth queen. I knew our goth reader character would live for the chance to quote her. :)
> 
> I had never even considered doing a Grigg fic until it was requested on my [tumblr](https://rlmfanfic.tumblr.com/).
> 
> If you have an idea on something you'd like me to write, please reach out to me here or via my [tumblr](https://rlmfanfic.tumblr.com/). Even better, if you have a story and you want it to be included in the Red Letter Media Fanfic Quarantine Collection, post it here. Or reach out to me and I'll post it anonymously for you.


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